Hold My Hand
by SA17
Summary: When a training session gets out of control, Vegeta and Trunks must pay the price... Rated for minor language and violence. One more chapter slated for release very soon.
1. Default Chapter

Hold My Hand  
  
"Come on!!" Vegeta yelled as he shifted from side to side, his disapproving glare piercing, his eyes burning with an almost primal hatred. "You are capable of much better, dammit! You are my son!"  
  
Trunks grunted as he barely avoided Vegeta's fists, trying desperately to avoid his father's advances upon him. But the young man was growing weary, his muscles aching from almost twelve straight hours of training with nary a rest break in between. But he did all he could do to stay competitive with his father, even if it meant he had to push himself beyond his limits.  
  
Vegeta growled fiercely as he levitated backward, staring disgustedly at his son as a trail of golden light followed him into place. This young man, Vegeta thought, could not possibly be his son. Vegeta envisioned his son to be stronger than this weakling before him. This waste of talent and pure Saiyan lineage slumped over in the air, gripping at his side as if he was in pain. Pain? This boy had no concept of the word, let alone the feeling! Vegeta grunted, "You've managed to anger me more than you can ever know, boy. Do you realize that you have not been able to land a single blow upon my body in the last four hours?"  
  
Trunks was silent, panting quietly as he tried to regain his composure. He had listened to one of his father's rants before, saying little, only standing and taking it like a man, because that is what his mother Bulma told him to do.   
  
"He's just acting like a big baby," she had said while working on a new invention, "Just let him say what he has to say and that will be that."  
  
"Are you listening to me, boy!?" Vegeta snarled, "Or are you just standing there, shamelessly moping in your own pathetical excuses? Huh!?"  
  
Trunks looked up at Vegeta and frowned, his nerves being tested by the older man. "I'll be okay. Just give me a few minutes," Trunks said with a sigh.  
  
"He says a few minutes," Vegeta mocked, "Hmph! In times of war, your opponent will not hesitate to blow you away while you're trying to take your precious minutes! Rest is for the weak, boy!"  
  
Trunks only scowled and powered down from Super Saiyan form, slowly levitating to the ground. "I'm calling it quits for the day," Trunks said to his father. The young man was trying his best not to get upset with his father.   
  
Vegeta's eyes widened in shock for a split second before he too relinquished his hyper powered form and landed on the floor as well. "Where do you think you're going, boy," he asked darkly, "If you think you're going to walk out of here without finishing this training, then you are sorely mistaken."  
  
"I'm tired, Dad," Trunks said in an irritable tone, "I'm going to rest. You can train alone if that's what you like."  
  
"You ungrateful little bastard," Vegeta spat suddenly, "After all that I have done for you, you would simply turn your back on me? On this training? If so then you truly are a weakling."  
  
Trunks growled lowly but he remained calm. "Wanting a little rest every now and then is not a sign of weakness, Vegeta. If working yourself dogged works for you then that's fine but I need some quiet time every now and again. So please, just accept it." But as Trunks began to turn around, Vegeta said something that made him stop midway.  
  
"If you turn your back on me, boy, I will make you pay," Vegeta growled darkly, "I'll show you just how much pain one can go through in one instant. You have no respect, let alone any true discipline, so I will have to drill it into you if that is the case. So please, turn your back on me. I welcome it, boy."  
  
Trunks was suddenly overcome with anger. "You shut up, Vegeta! You shut up about me and about who I am! You don't know me, and you never will! All I am to you is some freaking punching bag and nothing more! I'm not like you and quite frankly I don't want to be! So just quit your argument and just leave it at that!"   
  
Vegeta was suddenly overcome with blinding rage as he saw Trunks turn his back to him and walk toward the training pod's doorway. "Very well then," Vegeta growled and instantly transformed into Super Saiyan form and in a flash was in front of Trunks who was not three feet from the doorway.   
  
Trunks gasped as he stared into Vegeta's cold blue eyes, staring emotionlessly back into his. "I warned you," Vegeta said coldly and with unbelievable speed, Vegeta slammed his fist into Trunks' abdomen, emitting a loud gasp and choking noise from the young man as blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.   
  
Vegeta retrieved his fist from Trunks' stomach only to open it and deliver an open-handed slap across the young man's face, sending him bolting across the floor.   
  
Trunks attempted to fight back as soon as he regained himself, only to find his father one step ahead of him, right above him, an expressionless face staring back at him. Trunks transformed into Super Saiyan form but the recent pain that had been inflicted upon him still racked his body and caused him to grip his stomach.  
  
"I don't care if you're my son or not," Vegeta growled as he floated above Trunks, "You will obey me or you will suffer the consequences." In an instant, the hot-blooded Saiyan was gone and in the next reappeared behind Trunks, delivering a devastating kick across the back that caused Trunks to scream in sheer pain.   
  
Trunks had felt something give when that happened. Almost as if something had just suddenly been released and in an instant he was face down on the floor, his eyes seeing the floor, but his body as a whole not truly experiencing anything. He blinked slowly once then shut his eyes, feeling a heavy darkness fade over him.  
  
Vegeta looked on disgustedly at the young man that was now motionless on the floor. He figured that he had delivered the message clear enough and powered down to his normal form once again, slowly returning to a stand on the floor. His head was hot, dripping with sweat and all he could feel was hatred and anger for this defiance. Yet at the same time Vegeta felt relieved. At least he had finally given the boy some discipline, something that he had so desperately needed. "I hope you have now learned not to disobey me when..." but Vegeta stopped mid-sentence when a cold shiver ran down his spine and his eyes widened with horror, his mouth hanging open slightly in fear. For some reason, the Saiyan felt that something inside him had suddenly died as he looked on at the young man lying slumped on the floor. He took a step forward, his hand outstretched slightly from his side. "...Trunks?" Vegeta said in a uncharacteristically small, frightened voice.  
  
The young man did not answer. The only response were short, wheezing sounds reminiscent of breathing and short, whimpers coming from Trunks.  
  
"Speak, Trunks," Vegeta demanded frightfully. But when his son did not respond, Vegeta briskly walked over to his side and kneeled beside him. Vegeta suddenly gasped in horror, his expression wrenched into utter guilt as he realized what he had truly done to Trunks: his spine was shattered.  
  
"T-Trunks, no," Vegeta said hurriedly as he gently turned the young man over to see that his face, once so tanned and vibrant, was now a dark blue due to lack of oxygen. Vegeta gathered him in his arms, trying in vain to not damage anything else on the young man's body, and ran toward the doorway, kicking the door off of its hinges to get out.   
  
"Bulma!" Vegeta screamed violently although his voice shook with tension, "Woman! Get out here now!!"  
  
Bulma quickly ran down the stairs. "What is it, Vegeta? I was just..." but Bulma gasped at what she saw at the foot of the stairs and made a short scream, placing her hands over her face. "Trunks! Vegeta, what happened!?"  
  
"I-I...th-there's no time," Vegeta stammered, "Please, help him. Help him!"  
  
Bulma nodded and led the way toward the doorway. "We have to go to a hospital," she said, "And on the way...you can tell me what happened."  
  
***  
  
"When I was very young, I remember when my father, used to hold my hand while we walked through the park. He...isn't too big on emotions. I guess you could say he's a lot like most Saiyans from his time. But...there's always been something about him that told me he loved me and Mom, even though he never tells us outright. I guess...holding my hand was the only thing he could do. That is one of the days I could never forget, no matter how old I get."  
  
***  
  
Vegeta sat at the side of Trunks' bed in the sterile white hospital room, trying his hardest to drown out the rhythmic beeping noise of the heart monitor that filled the otherwise silent room. The light from the blinds of the nearby window seemed to flow solely on Trunks form while Vegeta sat in the gray shadows beside his son. They were alone in that room, despite Bulma's hate-filled attempts to keep him out. She had to be sedated and was sent to another room for rest. No one else was around. No one else had been told. And he wanted it that way...at least for now.  
  
The doctors said that there was nothing they could do. Not even the top brain and spinal surgeons could repair his shattered spinal cord, let alone the damage to all of his major organs. When asked how the incident had happened, Vegeta winced, his eyes downcast to the floor, a look of guilt and grief upon his face. He still answered to no one.  
  
However, as he looked at his son lying there on the bed, being kept alive only by the power of a machine, Vegeta literally began to weep. It was a strange sound at first, for him to hear such a thing coming from him. It came from deep within, a sort of rumble that erupted into a pained groaned, muffled by his closed mouth. His eyes began to burn and he savagely wiped the moisture away, his expression filled with disgust at his own showing of weakness.  
  
"I'm...the weakling," Vegeta said as he looked down at the floor. "No true Saiyan would ever do what I have done. I..." Vegeta's voice was caught in an agonizing sob as he vainly tried to fight it into submission. "I...I've failed you, Trunks. I've stolen your future...blinded by my own beliefs. I..." Vegeta sobbed again, laughing in almost hysteria, then settling down once again.   
  
"I was always proud of you. Proud that you were my son," Vegeta said as he looked up at his son's motionless body. The lavender locks of the young man lay across his bruised face, the breathing tube protruding from his parted mouth. Vegeta traced his son's features with his eyes, his vision blurred by the tears slowly forming in his eyes. "No matter how much I tried to separate myself from you, no matter much I tried to detach my feelings, I was always proud of you. I don't care how weak I may have made you think you were...any man that can spar with me and survive...is a strong man." Vegeta grunted, trying hard to swallow his grief and the second sob that tried to emerge. "DAMMIT!!" he screamed as he punched the floor under him, leaving the tiles cracked and broken under his fist. "It wasn't supposed to be this way..." he whispered as he looked up at Trunks again, tears streaming down his hardened cheeks, his face in absolute anguish. "Why couldn't you...why didn't you...live? Why did I have to..."  
  
Vegeta's questions went unanswered by his unconscious son. Instead, the young man lay in the bed, the machine breathing for him, making long inhales and sighs, his only response to Vegeta.   
  
Vegeta suddenly got onto his knees and took his son's hand in his, holding it tightly against his face, "Son...please, wake up. Don't let these pathetic humans determine your fate. You are my son! You are heir to the throne of Vegeta! You are future prince of all Saiyans...you..." Vegeta broke down, Trunks' hand still against his face. "You...you're my son." And with that, Vegeta finally allowed himself to let go, a long sob emitting from deep within as his eyes shut tightly, tears flowing more freely. "Please..." Vegeta sobbed and kissed his son's hand, "Please..." Falling to the floor on all fours, Vegeta began beating the floor viciously, screaming in a fit of rage and sobbing, his emotions ravaged in guilt and anguish, until finally two orderlies came in and tried to help the Saiyan prince off the floor.  
  
"NO!" Vegeta screamed, "Get the hell off of me!! I have a right to cry for him!!"  
  
The orderlies backed off when they realized something was more about the man as shown by the various dents in the white tile floor and stood at the doorway, letting the man cry, watching as he curled himself into a corner, sobbing as he stared blankly at his son on the bed, no longer caring for anything anymore.  
  
"...I killed my own son," Vegeta whispered as he rocked back and forth in the corner, the shadows devouring his entire figure a he looked on at his illuminated son. "...I deserve nothing but my own painful death." 


	2. Chapter 2

Hold My Hand, Part 2

"What are you doing, Trunks?"

Trunks did not turn around from the work on his desk, instead continuing his writing as his long black hair fell over his face. His room was shrouded in shadows and darkness, the once sky blue curtains and blinds switched for emotionless gray blinds and black curtains. The walls, once a cream color, were now painted over with jet-black paint. His room was in disarray, clothes and books scattered across the hardwood floor, his bed unmade, his closet ajar with clothing hanging out with very few articles actually on hangers.

"Nothing," he finally said and shut his book. Turning around on the swivel chair, he faced his mother with a pale face and sunken blue eyes.

Bulma willed herself to face him despite her initial reaction to want to turn away. "D-do you want something to eat? I'm making curry. It's spicy, just how you like it."

"No thanks, mom," Trunks said with a slight smile, "Maybe later, okay?"

Bulma nodded and began to turn away.

"Mom?" Trunks called.

Bulma hurriedly turned back around. "Yes?"

"I-I just want you to know that I'm thankful that you're still here at least," Trunks replied.

Bulma nodded and smiled trying with difficulty to hide her tears. "I am too and...I'm so glad you're back."

Trunks smiled at his mother and turned his thin frame back around to face his desk.

Bulma sighed and turned to go back down the stairs, to set a table for two as she desperately waited at the table for her son to eat a meal that would go untouched. She would sit at the table until the sun dipped into the horizon, sobbing quietly.

It had been six months since Trunks had been wished back to life with the Namekian Dragonballs. Six months since his own father had delivered the life-taking blow that paralyzed and eventually killed him. Six months he had been forced to live once again.

Perhaps Trunks' grim notion of life would not have been so warped had his father not have left the mortal plain just days before his resurrection. According to Bulma, Vegeta had pushed himself harder than he had ever done in training shortly after Trunks passed on. So hard, in fact, that Vegeta eventually sapped all of his life energy one day while training and just collapsed.

"He never stopped, save for an occasional shower and a bite to eat," Bulma remarked to her son months earlier. "In the last days, he never left the chamber, not even for a drink of water. He was like a man possessed, your father."

Bulma grew silent and nearly fell apart in front of her newly resurrected son.

"He blamed himself...for your death," Bulma continued as she looked into her son's face, still in slight awe by his being in front of her. "And in truth, he was...he's the one that pushed you, he's the one that delivered the blow..."

"But..." Trunks whispered, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"...It doesn't matter to you, does it?" Bulma said, "I mean, it does, but in a strange way you're at peace with the fact that your father...caused your death."

The teenager could only nod quietly.

"I know. It took a while for me, too but I eventually forgave him as well," Bulma said as she stood up and began to walk toward the kitchen. "He was a hot-tempered, pompous jerk...but he was passionate. And deep down I know that he loves us all. I never wanted anything other than to love him too...despite what he had done. But..." Her voice trailed off as she stood at the doorway, facing Trunks once again.

"He couldn't accept it," Trunks said suddenly, his teeth clenched. "He couldn't accept what he had done, so he trained himself to death..."

"Trunks?" Bulma asked, slightly confused, "He was...grieving for you. He knew no other way than to work out his anger and pain through violence."

"No!" Trunks barked, not necessarily at his mother, but at the ludicrousness of her remark. "He trained himself to death because he couldn't handle what he had done to me! Because he was a coward, he killed himself!"

Bulma suddenly walked briskly toward her son and slapped him hard across the face.

Trunks made no sound as his head turned violently away from his mother's. Eventually, he regained his composure, facing his mother with a steely expression. His eyes, however, reflected hurt at her action.

"I-I'm sorry," Bulma stammered, but then her expression turned heated, "But I'm not going to let you talk about your father that way. I won't hear it."

"You just don't want to hear it because it's the truth," Trunks stated darkly and walked past his mother slowly. As he began to ascend the stairs, he stopped midway. "He was less of a man than I could have ever imagined," he murmured quietly and ran up the stairs.

Bulma placed her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob, wishing that she could bring Vegeta back.

But that was impossible...

"What do you want, Kakarot?"

It was evening. The crisp autumn wind blew about the Saiyan prince's hair as he stood at the edge of a cliff. It was a long drop down. Vegeta, who had never wished the "plague" of becoming human to ever befall him, suddenly welcomed the prospect of being one of those lesser mortals, if only to experience a quick and painless death at his own hands.

Such was Vegeta's thoughts following the eventual death of Trunks. He was there, watching as his son's breathing grew strained. He was there as he watched the nurses and doctor try everything they could, as the beeping of various status monitors went off. And he was there, actually embracing Bulma as they watched their son slip away.

He had done this. He had made this happen. And now he wanted nothing more than to banish himself into the lonely darkness that Trunks no doubtingly experienced when his own father snuffed his life from him.

Vegeta wanted to die.

"I came...to express my condolences," Goku said quietly. The taller man in the bright orange gi walked stayed his ground, simply viewing Vegeta from his place by the cliff. He knew what the shorter man was thinking, what he desired. But he chose to not say anything fearing the man's dive deeper into despair.

So Goku watched, waiting for Vegeta to answer.

"Your condolences...?" Vegeta finally replied, his form never turning from the direction of the horizon. "You...have nothing to be sorry about, Kakarot. You actually love your children."

Goku was silent, still content with allowing the man to talk.

"You...adore your children, as much as they adore and admire you," Vegeta continued, "They treat you with the utmost respect, not because they fear you...but because they...love you."

"Trunks was the same way, Vegeta," Goku replied, taking two steps forward before remaining in place again, "He loved you as much as any son could love his father."

"And how would you know this, Kakarot?" Vegeta spat fiercely, "Are you some type of damned psychic?"

"No, I don't think so," Kakarot said grimly, "But I do know the look in Trunks' eyes whenever he looked at you. It may have been mixed with slight annoyance at times but it was always one of caring, love, and respect."

Vegeta remained quiet.

"Vegeta...don't beat yourself up over this too much. He can have a second chance...well, third if you count the whole Buu craziness. It'll be okay and when you see him again, you can say you're..."

"'Sorry'?" Vegeta suddenly exploded, wheeling around to face his eternal rival, "That I'm sorry for killing him with my own two hands? That I'm sorry for snuffing out his life because of my need for discipline? Does that SOUND like something YOU could do?"

"Vegeta..." Goku began.

"I couldn't even bare to look him in the eyes after what I've done, let alone make a feeble attempt at apologizing." Vegeta walked toward Goku and looked the man directly in the eyes. It was a stare that was truly imposing, even to the mighty Goku.

"Wake up, Kakarot, and realize that my actions today far outweigh anything else I have done in my past. I do not deserve to live after what I have done."

And Goku watched as Vegeta walked away from him and back toward the hospital alone.

"Oh, Vegeta..." Goku sighed.

"What are you still doing here, Vegeta?" Bulma interrogated viciously as her husband stood inside the doorway of her room.

She had become hysterical earlier that day when the prognosis for her son looked grim. Eventually, when the doctors confirmed that Trunks was, indeed, paralyzed because of the injuries sustained, the broken woman let out a primal scream that echoed throughout a good portion of the hallway, startling many of the patients and visitors who heard it.

The doctors felt that she required medication and was summarily held down by two larger men as she tried desperately to attack Vegeta who stood not three feet from her thrashing nails. When the injection of sedative was administered, Bulma became calm, but her anger was allowed to smolder into a comfortable stew.

And as she sat in the darkness of her hospital room, all cried out, all she could think of was how she could possibly right that which was wrong; how could she kill the man that murdered her son?

"I came to see how you were," Vegeta answered. There was no hesitation in his voice, but that does not mean he didn't have second thoughts about being in the room with the grieving woman. He had effectively extinguished the life of her first born. He had taken her baby!

Bulma sighed and turned her head away toward the curtained window.

"How do you THINK I'm doing?"

Vegeta was silent.

"How am I...SUPPOSED to be doing after some brute murdered my son?"

Again, Vegeta remained silent, only listening to his wife's words.

"You being here disgusts me, Vegeta," Bulma spat.

"And how do you think I feel, woman?" Vegeta rumbled heatedly, "My being alive...disgraces the memory of our son."

Bulma was silent and remained so as Vegeta walked slowly toward her bed.

"My actions today...were unconscionable. I committed the worst act any father could commit against his own flesh and blood. I...I..." Vegeta was able to stifle his emotion as he stopped just inches away from Bulma. He longed to look into her face, into her eyes, wanting to see the mother of his children look at him, even if it was an expression of sheer hatred.

"Your words mean nothing, Vegeta," Bulma said curtly, her head remaining turned. "They're nothing but empty declarations that have do nothing but fall flat like so much of the pompous crap you always spew."

Vegeta scowled at the woman in the bed yet he said nothing. Instead, his features softened, realizing that now was not the time to confront her, yet wondering if anything in his life would ever be a "good time" ever again. Without saying a word, Vegeta turned around to leave.

As he did he heard rustling of the covers but thought nothing of it...until he felt a sharp but relatively insignificant pain in his lower left side, basically on top of where a human's kidney would be. He felt a lighter weight driving against him, pushing what was apparently a sharp edge deeper into his side.

He grunted as Bulma attempted to drive the blade deeper into his body, listening to her angry sobs as she pushed as forcefully as she could, trying desperately to kill the nigh invincible man.

It was in this moment that Vegeta's despair had reached the very bottom, watching as his wife tried desperately to inflict pain and suffering and death upon him. Yet, he could not blame her much. Even as he felt the warmth of his own blood trickle down the side of his left leg, he was not angry, not vengeful. He just...was.

Bulma yelled in desperation and finally let up from the blade, panting heavily, her breaths ragged as she sucked them in and blew them out. She did not know what she would have accomplished by attacking Vegeta. However strong her resolve was, she was physically no match for her husband. But what surprised her the most was that the Saiyan ALLOWED her to stab him. And she did with no apprehension, driving the blade into his side, hoping to cause the man pain for all he had done to her son.

To her life.

She wanted him to feel pain, as much pain as she could possibly inflict.

And when she realized she could not kill him she let up, exhausted from the effort and rationality finally returning to her. And when logic returned, her emotions suddenly hit full force with the realization of what she had done.

"Vegeta..." Bulma sobbed. She wanted desperately to embrace him, to apologize for what she had done. But she had no right. And deep down she stilled resented him.

"This was your one chance..." Vegeta said calmly, not turning around to face his wife. Vegeta was thankful that the room was dark enough so that Bulma was unable to see his muscular form trembling almost uncontrollably. "And this is the last time you will ever do this to me again."

Bulma sobbed quietly as she sat back down upon the bed and watched as her husband walked toward the window. Opening the curtains and then lifting the window, he placed a foot on the windowsill and nodded his head. "I will see you tomorrow..." Vegeta finished and he darted out of the room, flying high into the night sky, his tears nearly obstructing his view as he flew toward the horizon. 


End file.
